The Demon Experiment
by vangeaux
Summary: 'She is burning by his side. S h e i s b u r n i n g.' Long before Sam and Dean were born, there was another human who Castiel cared deeply for. Her name was Eleanor. Centuries in hell have turned her into an echo of who she once was. Castiel thought she was lost forever. Until he discovered her a tied up, prisoner of the Winchesters.
1. Chapter One

Their hearts beat calmly in their chest; by now they dealt with a demon as easily as they would a kitten. It had become easy for them, second nature they would call it. There were no feelings of remorse as they restrained the body; it was currently occupied by a beast, after all. And it wouldn't think twice about killing both of the brothers in an instant; so no, it's comfort wasn't really at the forefront of their minds.

It had taken control of the body of a young woman. If she hadn't been possessed by one of Satan's little followers, Dean would've considered taking her out. She had large green eyes that had glowered at them in the midst of their hunt. She had full lips that had pulled back in a snarl, baring her clenched teeth. But having your body inhabited by another creature came with some consequences; her hair was greasy and her eyes were bloodshot. Battle scars marked her body; her once smooth skin was now mottled with burns and scratches. The demon inhabitant had put up a good fight with the brothers in the beginning. Lucky for them, they had the experience of hundreds of encounters with demons under their belt.

However, the girl's appearance was probably the last thing she would be worried about once the demon was cast out of her body. Lord knows what it had made its vessel do.

But she wouldn't have to suffer for much longer. The demon could do no more harm; Dean was sure of it as he secured the body to the wooden chair. It wasn't mature, but the ties were tight and if that wouldn't do, there was still the ring of salt keeping the demon contained. As Dean carefully stepped around the ring, he felt confidant in his safety. It would be sitting there for as long as they said so.

They weren't sure when it would come to when a low sound emanated from the girl's throat. Eyes fluttering open, her head began to loll on her shoulders. And then she began to jerk on her bonds. Her frustration became increasingly evident as her body jerked in the chair, the wooden legs screeching against the floor. The sounds she was making was so longer the soft groans from moments before; now she growled and screeched, frustration turning to anger. Finally, she grew rigid, becoming silent as a mouse in a single second. Her wild eyes had narrowed, and they landed directly on Sam.

The girl probably had a beautiful voice, but when the demon spoke, it made their skin crawl. It was twisted and manipulated. It was evil.

"Now, what do the Winchester boys want with little ol' me?" It drawled, her lips turning up in an ugly smile. There was blood on her teeth and staining her lips. It belonged to the girl's body, the blood that still stained her face. But it wouldn't rest until it had a taste of the Winchesters too.

Dean silently thought about how good it would feel to simply take the bitch out. The way it was looking at them. It made his skin crawl. The feeling of being out of his depth began to naw at his subconscious, which was ridiculous. This was his territory, what he was born to do. But this felt terribly wrong.

There was a reason why their usual routine was kill 'em and go. This time, however, they were trying something new.

"You know who we are," Sam replied, his voice husky as the thrill of the job rushed through his veins. "You know why you're here."

The demon laughed. "Please, enlighten me." Her fingers dug into the arms of the chair, the only sign of its agitation. "Why am I still alive?"

"You're gonna be a part of our little experiment," Dean intervened. His steps were slow and the soft thumping sound resonated throughout the small bunker. Her head tilted, watching him as he walked towards her.

So many wonderful things she had heard about the Winchesters. Hopefully, they wouldn't disappoint. Let them torture her, let them do their worst. She had endured decades of torture, had experienced the worst torture imaginable as she rot in Hell. Anything they did to her would be child's play.

While they had their fun, she would have hers. Her body may have been restrained but her eyes worked perfectly fine; she would observe them, learn them, learn their weaknesses and their strengths. And then she would break free. And then... she would crush them.

"Experiment?" She parroted, playing the part that they had given her. The naive prisoner.

The term 'experiment' certainly had ominous tones to it.

"There was a man," Sam explained, walking into her line of sight, "that believed a demon could be purified and once again have its humanity. We think he was successful. Now we are doing our own studies."

His voice was softer than his brother's, not as brash. He stepped up next to Dean, towering over him. The brothers were clearly very different inside and out. She was starting to piece them together easily. Soon, she would be able to read them like an open book.

She scoffed. "That's ridiculous. Besides, don't I have a say in this?" She could get used to this, ruffling their feathers, seeing what made them tick. She wasn't surprised when the shorter one scoffed at her coy response.

Dean's reply was quick and gruff and expected. "No."

Leaving Dean's side, Sam began to stride across the room, out of its line of sight. Trying to remain impassive, she tried to peer after him, see what he was up to.

Pushed up against the wall was an old, dusty table that probably couldn't hold much weight any more. It looked unstable enough just sitting there, but Sam moved towards it with determination and reached out for the object that was resting on the table top.

She could hardly see it from where she was sitting but when he held it up, the light shone through the glass, illuminating the syringe. The long needle glistened as he pointed it up, inspecting the drop of blood that oozed from the tip.

After hours of observation and blood injections, they left her alone for awhile, down the cold cellar. Trying to turn a demon innocent again was bound to be hard work but at least they had an angel on their side.

"Have you made any progress?" Castiel asked when he finally arrived for the show.

Dean glanced over his shoulder, looking at his brother. Back in the cellar, Sam was leaning against the shabby table, gently flicking the pages of an old book. Beside him on the table was laid the syringe. Dean grimaced at the sight of the threatening needle; he was just glad he wouldn't be one the receiving end of it.

"Not much," Dean admitted. "We got a name though. Apparently, she was Eleanor Atherton. We kinda figured, I don't know, if she revealed that old piece of herself then we might be able to connect her more to her humanity. Couldn't hurt to try. Anything helps at this point. She's strange, man, even for a demon. It's like she enjoys this-"

"Did you say Atherton?" Cas cut him off, having not heard a single word since the name was uttered. He hadn't heard that name in centuries, but he had no trouble remembering it. It had echoed in his mind everyday.

It couldn't be her, a small voice in his head thought. What were the chances of stumbling across her like this? But Castiel had spent centuries searching. Perhaps this was only a matter of time.

Pushing past Dean without an explanation, Cas moved towards her, his vessels heart hammering in his chest. Both he and Eleanor wore new faces now but it didn't matter. If it was her, he would know.

Brow furrowed in confusion, Dean watched as Cas stepped towards the girl, inspecting her with his intense gaze, looking for something.

Apparently, he found it. Cas' face relaxed in resignation as he murmured, "So it is you."

Sam looked up from his book, frozen as he tried to catch up on what was happening in front of him. Dean couldn't have explained anything either. Now, they were both on the outside looking in.

"Well, look who decided to show," it said, her head slowly tilting to the side, her voice heavy with marvel and intrigue. "It's been a long time, Castiel."


	2. Chapter Two

There was the feeling of everything being suddenly still. Sam dared to take a breath, to break the piercing silence. Had Castiel frozen time?

Of course not. Her cracked lips widened into a gruesome smile as she observed the angel. It only put Sam further on edge, unable to squash his rising annoyance.

Dean, however, felt his stomach churn at the sight. It wasn't just the girl that bothered him. It was Cas. He knew something that they didn't; he shared a secret with the beast. And now, his face looked like it could have been carved from stone the way it was set so tense.

"What," Dean bit out, eager to end the discomforting staring contest that was going down before him. "You two know each other?" The demon never saw his sneer; still, it only had eyes for Cas. Dean didn't very much enjoy feeling like a child.

But compared to them, Sam and Dean really were children.

The maniacal grin fell from the girl's face, as it relaxed into a cool expression, devoid of emotion. Her head began to fall back as she stretched out in her chair. "We go way back," she sighed, eyes languidly closing. "Don't we?"

She could feel the delicious tension in the room and knew Castiel must have been squirming by then. He hadn't told his little pets about her, it seemed. Perhaps they weren't as close as everybody thought.

Finally, Cas turned toward Dean, his eyes downcast as he quietly admitted, "I knew her when she was still human. A long time ago."

"You had a different vessel back then," she called out, hearing every whisper. Catching Dean's attention, she lazily draped one long leg over the other, swinging her foot back and forth. "I have to say, I liked the last one better."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "I see you have a different vessel as well." It seemed as if nothing of the girl he remembered remained. The warm gaze was replaced with this malicious stare. Her sweet laugh replaced with the toying giggle. Eleanor was truly lost to him.

"Do you like?" She asked, cocking a dark, slender eyebrow. "I would show it off for you but I'm a bit restrained at the moment."

Castiel never had the chance to reply and as a gruff cough echoed throughout the cellar. Three pairs of eyes turned on Sam, who had finally moved to join the trio, book abandoned on the table.

Sam was slowly growing agitated with the scene unfolding before him. He had to do something to catch their attention.

"Do you mind filling Dean and I in on the details?" he finally asked Castiel.

Cas' reply was slow but gruff. "Yes."

"Yes?" Sam parroted, huffing in exasperation.

"Yes, I do mind," Castiel told him darkly. "What has happened is in the past and does not concern you." It was all such bad timing. More than anything, Cas wanted to speak to Eleanor alone. Definitely not with an audience. But the brothers already saw too much. They wouldn't let it go, not now. They would snoop and badger him until they found out the whole story. He swallowed thickly, imagining his past being dug up after so long trying to bury it.

"It doesn't concern either of you," he continued, directing his gaze back towards Dean. As he spoke, he knew it was in vain. If anything, he was only making matters worst. Tell a Winchester 'no', they go at it with twice the force.

"Aw, come on, Cas," Eleanor cooed. "I think it would be fun to take a trip down memory lane."

"Yes," Dean said, for the first time in his life agreeing with a demon. "Yes, I think that would be real fun, Cas! Now, what the hell is going on because you are being really shady about this."

Before the brothers could realize what he was doing, he reached up and softly touched them both on the forehead. In an instant they were gone, safely transported away to one of the rooms above. It wasn't far, but it would buy him a little time.

Just enough time to be alone with her. It felt as thought a small weight was lifted off of his chest; he no longer had to worry about what he said in front of the Winchesters. He could finally speak freely.

"You always were a stick in the mud," she told him, her eyes narrowing to a glare. Her lips, stolen lips, puckered into a pout.

"What has happened to you," Cas asked softly, his voice full of sorrow. At one time, he had been closer to her than anyone; now it seemed that that part of her was wiped away. What sat before him was a stripped down, unrecognizable version of her.

But it was still her.

"You left me alone," she told him matter-of-factly. "So I survived."


	3. Chapter Three

The façade had fallen; Eleanor's smirk was finally gone, her face reflecting Castiel's somber expression. Well, perhaps she was more bored than anything. Theirs was a reunion she had found herself dreaming of for so many years. But when he never showed, her hope dimmed, her love dimmed, she had dimmed. Into nothing. Eleanor was nothing. Just this demon occupying a human shell.

"I still remember the day we met," she murmured, looking at the angel who had once been her entire world. "Do you?" As she carefully examined every inch of his tense, new face, she thought perhaps her imprisonment wasn't such bad luck after all. She may be trapped but Castiel was the one being gutted.

"How could I forget?" He replied. His voice was different of course, but still that same deep timbre. She recognized it just as he recognized the faint, lilting accent of hers. She had never been able to lose it, even after all the years she had spent speaking English.

It had been centuries since he had first met Eleanor, since she was human with her inconsequential life in Europe. It may have been a long time but Castiel hadn't forgotten a single moment. The memory of her had haunted him, never leaving him a moment's rest.

He had first seen the young girl in a small town in Spain. The happiest years of her existence were spent there, surrounded by her family and friends. Her childish naivety had protected her for most of her short life. It was Castiel's biggest regret that it was his fault she was stripped of that.

Eleanor sprinted amongst her playmates, a joyous laughter escaping her lips. Panting as the hot sun beat down on her, she stretched her arm out as far as she could. Her legs pushed her faster until her fingers brushed against Merek's shoulder.

"I got you!" She exclaimed triumphantly. The young boy nearly fell over from stopping so quickly. He eventually turned around to face Eleanor, gasping for air.

"Looks like you did, you little-," lunging towards her, she squealed as he playfully grabbed at her. He gripped her tight and suddenly her feet left the ground. As he spun her around, she laughed in delight and wriggled in his grasp. Her gleeful shrieks caught the attention of passing adults, who looked on in amusement.

"Eleanor." A soft voice called her name from a distance, catching the children's attention. Eleanor felt Merek's spinning slow to a halt and he grudgingly set her down. Shyly, she turned away from her friend to face her mother, who stood at the threshold of their home. "Come," she was told, "you have chores to finish."

"Coming, Mama," Eleanor called out. Before waving goodbye to her other playmates, she quickly turned and gave Merek one last hug. "See you later," she told him.

"See you later, Eleanor," he replied quietly.

Finally, she left her friends behind her as she sprinted towards her waiting mother. That kind smile was waiting for her, along with the loving hug she always greeted her daughter with. Eleanor didn't pay the rough rocks under her feet any mind. They didn't matter is mother was there to take care of her.

"Eleanor, stop!" Eleanor's eyes widened as she looked at her mother's frightened, pale face. She skid to a stop, not understanding why she was acting so strange.

"Mama?" By time she heard the rumbling from the horse's hooves hitting the ground, it was too late. She felt paralyzed, unable to move a muscle a she watched the carriage being pulled closer to her at an alarming speed.

Her mother fell to her knees as she realized there was no saving her daughter. In her mind, she already saw her daughter's small body being trampled under the hooves of horses. Her fingers dug into her dress as another scream ripped out of her throat as she watched the horses fly by. 'My daughter is dead,' repeated liked a mantra in her head. She felt cold all over.

The horses left a cloud of dust behind them, until the carriage was finally being pulled to a stop. The poor woman shook all over as her eyes strained to look through the dust. She still couldn't see, she couldn't see her daughter. But as the dust cleared, there was no body to be seen. The ground was clear of everything except dirt.

'What?' The mother thought. 'That's not right. She was there, right there in front of those beasts. There was no saving her...'

But then her heart lifted in joy. Her daughter was alive. She wouldn't question it. Picking herself up off the ground, on trembling legs she ran out to the road. And there she was, safely tucked in the arms of her savior. As she grew closer, she began to recognize the man holding Eleanor. The butcher's boy was grown known, towering over the woman.

Just before Eleanor's mother reached her, Eleanor leaned closer towards the butcher's boy. He tilted his head, so he might hear her better as she whispered in his ear, "You aren't really him, are you?"

His head snapped towards hers as he looked at her in surprise. But then her mother was there and pulling her into her arms.

That night, after a thousand relieved kisses from her mother, Eleanor kneeled on the floor beside her cot as she began to pray.

"Dear Savior," she whispered. She tried to say her prayer quickly. The hard floors of her house were hard and uncomfortable to sit on. She knew her knees would soon be hurting from kneeling.

"I pray that you watch over me tonight like you did this evening," she whispered against her clasped hands. "Oh, and also watch over Mama and Papa. I thank you for all that you've done."

And for the first time in her life, her prayers were answered.

"What is your name, child?" His voice softly asked from behind her.

She spun around, a wide grin on her face. "My name is Eleanor. Don't you already know that? Since, after all, you are the Lord and everyone knows the Lord is all knowing." Her heart hammered in her chest and she had to remind herself to stop talking.

A frown began to set in his face, which confused Eleanor. She gasped, horrified, when she realized what she's done. She questioned God. But God didn't seem angry. He just asked, "What makes you think I am Him?"

The answer was so simple, came so easily to her. "Your color," she admitted, eyes tracing the luminescent glow that emanated from Him.

"My color?" He asked.

Eleanor could hardly believe what was happening. She was teaching something to God. For a second, she felt something horrible creeping up in the back of her mind: doubt.

"Everyone has a color, right," she hesitantly explained. "The butcher's son, the real son, was usually always light purple. Mother said he always had his head in the clouds. I've seen colors change before but never one like yours. Yours is gold. So bright and beautiful, like the sun-" She stopped her ramblings long enough to sigh as she gazed at him.

"Auras," God murmured, a look of realization dawning on his face. "You're seeing auras." He had come across humans like this, who could see just a bit more than the average person.

"Is that what it's called?" Eleanor asked excitedly. She repeated the word, testing it on her lips. Already she was learning so much. If only he would stay awhile, she could ask him everything she's wanted to know for years.

He ignored her question but crouched down to look at her, face to face. "I must be going now," he told her solemnly. Disappointment immediately washed through her. There was so much she wanted to talk to him about. How could he leave already.

"But you must know," he continued. "I am not God."

Her gaze of wonderment fell and her expression was replaced with one of great disappointment and a little bit of fear. What did he mean he wasn't God? She had been so sure.

"You're not?" She asked, suddenly feeling like a very foolish little girl.

"No," the stranger replied, his face softening as he realized how hurt she was. "I am but only one of his humble angels. My name is Castiel."

"An angel," she whispered, the look of awe returning to her face. He wasn't God but she figured this was close enough. Her hand came up to touch his scruffy cheek.

"Sleep well," he told her, "knowing that you and your family will be well looked after. No harm will come to you."

Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.


	4. Chapter Four

"You're color is different now." Eleanor cocked her head to the side, her lips pursed. She wondered how long she could play the nonchalant card and how badly it would annoy Castiel. Deciding to try it for a bit longer, she said, "It's darkened. It's murkier."

He was quiet for a moment, just watching her as if he was inspecting her too. Eleanor wondered what he was searching for. Maybe he hoped, like the Winchesters, that there was some humanity left in her. "So, you still see Auras," he noted.

"Yep." She shook her wrist, shaking the chains that wrapped around them. She longed to just get up from the chair and stretch. It was so irritating being trapped inside human skin. She couldn't escape the pains that ailed it.

Castiel's eyes narrows as he noticed her discomfort and she quickly grew still. The idea of him learning her weaknesses didn't settle well with Eleanor. But he simply let his observations go and asked, "What about yours? It can't be the same."

Auras could change depending on how the person spiritually changed and Eleanor had changed far too much to keep the same aura. Her aura had once reflected her sweet and naïve soul. Now it would only reflect the echo she is of her old self. It would reflect her anger and hatred, her deep pain that she had grown used to.

"What," she said with an amused snort, "you mean the horrid blue color? I dropped that a long time ago." She could have been talking about her hair color with the way she spoke so nonchalantly. It sounded like nothing more than a stylish decision on her part, such an unimportant thing. But her aura had been a deep, rare color, something that showed how truly good she was. Her spirituality, her innocence, all burned away in the pits of hell.

And the color was long gone.

"I was always so fascinated by the angel Castiel," Eleanor murmured from her seat inside of the pentagram. "And I thought you were so good." She tilted her head back and let out a laugh. It nearly sounded genuine. What a naive little girl she had been. But what girl wouldn't be taken by the thought of loving an angel. It was such a romantic ordeal, something that could only belong in stories.

But it happened to her. And she had thought it was the most wonderful thing in the world. If only she had known what danger Castiel would put her in. He knew.

"Who are you to talk about good," Castiel muttered. "You're a demon."

Was Eleanor just imagining it or was he actually sounding a bit bitter? "Ooh, Castiel," she said sweetly, "is your sickly sweet facade finally starting to crack?"

He ignored her question. He was always so good at that. "If I had known where you were," he began, "if I had known you were in Hell-"

"Spare me your apologies," Eleanor sighed. But really, she wanted to hear him grovel. For centuries she's wanted his explanation, craved it. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that. But she wouldn't let him get away with playing the innocent. That was never intention.

"I am curious, though," she told him. "Did you even notice I was gone? When did you realize your little human had stopped praying?" Suddenly, the cellar grew all too dark, the silence too thick, the tension pressing down on them. Only her voice cut through it all. "You knew," she said, and he could feel the power in her voice. "You knew and you didn't care at all."

Castiel couldn't look at her any longer. They had once been so close; they knew each other better than anyone. Castiel held her above everyone, even above the Angels. He would have never admitted it at the time, but he held her above God. He would have done anything for her. Even if that girl was gone, it still hurt to hear all the things hurtled his way but this demon. It hurt more than anything.

"That isn't true," he insisted. Huffing, he turned his back to her, choosing to face the wall instead. "I searched for you everywhere," he whispered. And it was true. Not a single stone was left unturned in Heaven, Earth, and Hell. And then he found her, barred from him and guarded by a legion of demons. "They knew I was coming for you," he revealed. "I would have died if it weren't for my brothers and sisters who died in my place as they fought to protect me.

Because of him, angels were killed. Because he acted without orders. Because he felt too deeply for a single human. Castiel had been reprimanded, punished, forced to give Eleanor up. It was his greatest regret.

'Good,' Eleanor thought as Castiel hung his head. 'Let him feel ashamed.' She figured it was about time the emotionless block of wood started to feel something, especially after everything he put her through.

"So, you did know I was in Hell," Eleanor clarified. Castiel didn't see her sneer. "And you left me there to rot all because you were bullied by your big brothers."

She had to take a moment to reign in her anger, her bitterness, her resentment. Things she hasn't felt in decades started to rise up within her. She smothered them with a cool, blank facial expression. She learned that trick from the best. Because, really, that's all she ever got from Castiel.

But this time, he couldn't take the heat. And just like that, he left. One moment, Castiel was standing before her and the next, he was gone. 'He never could handle conflict,' Eleanor mused.


	5. Chapter Five

Castiel could keep trying but he would never keep the Winchesters away for long. They just kept coming back, stubborn as ever, eager to figure out the whole story. Eleanor kept silent for the most part, but it didn't deter Dean and Sam very much.

"What did you do to get yourself landed in Hell?" Dean asked again. Eleanor smiled. He tried to act tough but he was in defense mode, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He grew up hunting demons, he didn't frighten easily, but none seemed to get under his skin quite like Eleanor. Perhaps it was her connection with Cas that had him on edge.

And there was just something so patronizing in the way she looked at him, with that small smirk never leaving her face. It was as if she were humoring him, like she knew she wouldn't be staying long. Only for a time would she act as their little prisoner.

Dean felt a muscle in his cheek twitch. He would show the demon bitch that it all wasn't a petty little game. And he was not just a weak little human. He spotted a chair off to the side; he walked over to it and grabbed it, dragging it behind him until it sat a few feet away from the demon. Sam went and stood beside his brother who plopped himself down in the chair.

"It's obvious you and Cas have history," Sam stated. "I'll bet he's the one that put you there." Eleanor perked up at that. Cas. So the brothers had a nickname for the angel, did they? What a picture perfect family they made.

"He might as well have put me there," she mused. "I guess you're not completely wrong." Again, she began to lazily swing her leg back and forth, back and forth. It was fun trying to find out what made the brothers tick. They were still so young, so easy to set on edge.

"What does that mean?" Sam asked, grinding his teeth, doing his best to ignore her silly ploys. What did she think she was doing? She was captured and at their mercy and yet, she played them with the smallest gestures. This was a game to her.

"You're quite annoying," Eleanor sighed. "And a bit thick. Castiel and I were on the same side." It would have been nice to laugh at their puzzled expressions, but she remained silent, instead just quietly picturing the gears turning in their little brains.

"So, he was on your side," Sam repeated, "but practically put you in hell? Interesting." Tossing his head back, he let out a frustrated sigh as he leaned back against the rickety table.

They weren't buying it, she realized. They didn't want to believe that Castiel could be close to someone like her.

"That's how it goes," she mused. "Isn't it so typical?"

"Alright," Dean spoke up, humoring her. "You had an angel on your side, you couldn't have been all bad then. So, explain how someone like you was sentenced to eternal damnation."

"Someone like me," Eleanor parroted with a small scoff. "What about you, Dean? What got you in Hell?" She didn't even try to hide her smug smile. "Oh, well we all know that. You may not realize it, Dean, but it turns out that we really aren't that different. We are actually very much alike."

Sam could see Dean go rigid in his seat. "Cut the cliché bull crap-"

"So, why did Castiel decide to save you?" The demon continued. "I guess it just depends on how important the chess piece is."

"This isn't a game," Dean snarled.

"Isn't it?" Eleanor shot back, eyebrows raising. It was then Sam saw the affect she was having on Dean. This was what she wanted, to set them off. And it was working; Sam could practically see the steam rising from Dean.

"Who or what put you in Hell," Sam patiently asked for the second time. His gaze seemed to cut into her as he searched her poker face for any tell.

Eleanor stared back at him, her eyes just as hard and cold. Sam wouldn't admit it, but her stare was slowly diminishing his resolve. Under her scrutiny, he felt bare as if there was nothing between the two of them, nothing to protect him.

"I was simply an easy target," she admitted quietly.

"Nope," Dean said, standing up from his chair. "Nope, that's not enough. What happened to you? What did you do that put you in Hell? And what the hell happened between you and Cas?"

"Aren't you the nosy one," Eleanor murmured, slowly turning her head away from Dean.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked incredulously. "You were ready to spill all of Cas' dirty little secrets before. So what's holding you back now?"

"It was fun watching him squirm." She wasn't having so much fun anymore, that much was clear to Sam and Dean. Her answers were becoming clipped, her shoulders were furrowed as she hunched in her seat. The brothers were gradually gaining the upper hand, after days of holding her prisoner.

"Yeah?" Dean scoffed. "Well, it beats my why he could ever care for the likes of you."

"Fine," she snapped, eager to correct the idiot. It infuriated her that they put the angel on such a pedestal. It was always Cas this, Cas that, poor Cas. She would teach them a thing or two about Poor Cas.

"Castiel is a liar," she stated hotly. "Come on, boys, open your eyes. You think you know him? Well, I've been there. I expected him to always have my back. In the end, he only let me down. Don't worry, you'll find out the hard way, just like I did. And you want to know why I don't want to talk about it? It's because the story is long and tedious and frankly I'm tired of playing the 'game'."

Abruptly finishing her rant, her grip tightened on the chair's armrests, and she refused to look at either of the brothers now. Instead, she stared straight ahead, wishing she could just will them away. She had lost her cool; she had allowed them to push her towards the edge. It wouldn't happen again.

But it was too late; the affect was done. Sam wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he almost thought he heard a wobble in her voice. And upon closer inspection, he could tell she was biting the inside of her cheek. He realized she was getting upset; she was actually feeling something. Perhaps she wasn't the lost cause she wanted them all to believe.


End file.
